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back field fog drifts through branches rigid with ice
free of its seeds the dried wild mustard looks ready for anything
Dave Bonta
SourceLicence:CC BY-SA 4.0
back field fog drifts through branches rigid with ice
free of its seeds the dried wild mustard looks ready for anything
A quiet winter scene unfolds in a few lines: a field behind the house, fog moving through branches that have frozen stiff with ice. Nothing happens, exactly. The speaker simply watches, and the stillness feels cold, hushed, and a little ghostly.
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